


musings from an april spent indoors

by strikethesun



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Moby Dick - Herman Melville, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard
Genre: Escapril Poetry Challenge 2020, Multi, Poetry, Power Imbalances, Unhealthy Relationships, chapter 8 is an AU if you squint, oops! all stories where nearly everyone dies, sailors in love, the inherent homoeroticism of the sea, tragic fates, when is ishmael NOT struggling to form a narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikethesun/pseuds/strikethesun
Summary: my most fic-like escapril poems. a full collection of poems can be foundhere.
Relationships: Captain Ahab/Starbuck (Moby Dick), Henry VI/Marguerite d'Anjou | Henry VI/Margaret of Anjou, Ishmael/Queequeg (Moby Dick), Rosencrantz/Guildenstern
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. dawn (ishmael/queequeg, rosencrantz/guildenstern)

**Author's Note:**

> for info about escapril, click [here.](https://www.instagram.com/letsescapril/) inspired to post these by my good friend's similar posting of moby-dick-related escapril poems, which can be found [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25435639/chapters/61689055)

we awoke to the sound of  
knocking on the window  
or maybe it was when you  
and the quilt  
seemed to melt into one  
or maybe it was the morning  
when i realized we were on a charted course  
sailing towards the end  
i don’t know anymore  
there were just so many  
mornings where i woke up  
sun in my eyes  
and casting shadows around your face  
and illuminated our lovers’ tangle  
for all the world to gaze on  
that they all melt into one

“in the dawn he sailed away to be gone forever more” - suzanne vega, calypso 


	2. earthly pleasures! (ishmael/queequeg)

there is a lot to the sea   
that gives it the power   
to drown everything else  
fear  
(until—)  
sorrow   
(until—)  
loneliness   
(until—)  
well,  
at least we shared a few beautiful years   
enough to teach me that   
the land was never something to escape anyways   
and finding myself back on shore   
i find that every little petal and stick and stone   
reminds me of the beauty   
of what we made at sea


	3. chemical reaction (ishmael/queequeg)

the attraction was instant   
and impossible to explain  
“you had to be there,  
i guess,  
in the new bedford inn  
and really see him for yourself  
y’know,  
fully nude  
covered in tattoos   
with the exact profile of george washington   
and the shrunken heads and all that  
and sure, i was scared  
but so, so turned on   
but more importantly   
he gave me a home in his arms that night   
so that when i woke up, the fusion was complete   
chemically bonded  
or something like that”  
of course, i wouldn’t have said all that   
not even in the most rhythmic chorus   
of our three-year song   
not even squeezing his hand through whale sperm   
could i have said all that   
so i refuse to say it now


	4. natural light (starbuck/ahab, henry/margaret)

he once radiated it.  
he never began to look so old until  
well,  
but he truly could have fooled you!  
had you seen him then  
i’m so sorry you have to join this story now  
i wish i could bring you to those   
light-filled days  
all men in his service gazed upward   
seeking praise   
wanting to be touched by him—  
i wanted to be touched by him so badly—  
he touched me, but then he   
entrusted me with so much that i   
am not strong enough to carry  
all while insisting that i’ve   
always been the strong one  
if he was once his own light source i   
have only ever been illuminated by him  
this story can end in tragedy or otherwise but  
it cannot end in light   
i hope that your story does but   
the one between he and me is   
crawling towards the shadows   
waiting patiently to die.  
  
“my soul is more than matched; she’s overmanned”


	5. parasitic (henry/margaret)

you need me more  
than you will ever truly know or say out loud  
or even listen to me shout under your skin  
“you need me,” over and over and over.  
you need me because i am what you cannot be  
but have been trying to be your entire life  
i am so much more than you  
i sit next to you, a beautiful statue  
i touch your hand and you know what to do  
without me even having to say it  
they will remember me as a sort of leech  
my name will linger in men’s tongues as an  
unnatural thing, a woman who dared to  
act as though she was needed more than she  
herself had needs, weaknesses, holes in her mind  
but that’s the truth that exists between us,  
as thick as the blood you suck from my heart  
the blood i willingly give  
but others will come along to suck too  
they will drain my lifeless body long after  
you or i could do anything about it  
and blood dripping from their teeth they will  
dare to call me bloodthirsty

“not that any of it matters. we’re all going to  
drown in blood.” - describe the night 


	6. submerged in water (ishmael/queequeg)

when i sank, i soon rose “with great force”   
and fulfilled my role  
i had always had a sense it would end as such  
me, the ‘soothing savage’  
him, pale and helpless  
me, practically born in the great pacific   
him, raised in dusty libraries   
it seemed inevitable that one day i would   
rise up out of the water and keep him afloat   
(perhaps i already had, if his unexplained quiet glances of gratitude were any indication)  
but not like this   
i still thought it didn’t have to be like this right up  
until it happened   
and he clung to my coffin like a child freshly born  
and he returned to shore after the most dismal of  
baptisms   
but i felt every fingernail dug into that wood  
and i heard every cry and plea he let escape into the water   
and i did my best to be his savior   
and i felt as though it was the only way i was   
allowed to be noble anymore  
born a prince—in a poor sort of translation  
and dying to continue his story  
at least i truly did love him.


	7. grief (ishmael/queequeg)

before i realized i had to tell the story   
(“the story,” the name i pinned to it so that it would stick in my head),  
i spent a long time running my finger around  
the hole he left when he left   
and all i felt was absence   
and yet i was crushed under its weight   
it could suck up the entire world if left unfilled   
so i put a plug on it   
if i wasn’t allowed to lay claim to his body  
i would lay claim to his memory  
i would set it on paper, so much more resilient   
than stone  
and i would tell it to you,   
over and over and over again   
and he would come alive for all of us, even if it  
only lasted a moment   
and if he found a way into your heart, and you   
couldn’t stop thinking about him  
long after my story ended,   
then at least i’m not the only one   
he can travel from mine to yours back to mine again   
i think he would have liked that.


	8. dusk (ishmael/queequeg, starbuck/ahab)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> makes a lot more sense after listening to two different songs titled "dusk"--one from dave malloy's "moby dick: a musical reckoning," which can be heard [here,](https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/1cXROy4O6g93ULEh0O03arHy7VJK6ksTy) and one from daniel emond's work-in-progress, "kill the whale," found [here.](https://open.spotify.com/track/4ISTUqhBtyUfYAZsMx4PIm?si=F6d5MQt4Qd6WhurEPaPTFQ)

i’ve heard this song twice now—  
and both times i imagine you in a smoky bar,  
a cigarette dangling between your fingers  
perched as precariously as the audience,  
hooked on your every word  
despite how tired you seem,  
and are.  
tired of how much it hurts to love that man, yes,  
but tired, too, of always having your story told by  
someone else.  
tired of that fresh-faced sailor who looks down at you from the lookout and   
pretends he can hear what you’re saying.  
tired of how his love responds to him, all full of warmth and  
the way their hearts and minds grow loftier with each day.  
tired of how your love only grows more bitter.  
tired of how you have the most to lose.  
tired of being held down by faith, duty, and the   
sort of love that keeps you coming back and   
coming back and coming back to shore after years at sea and  
still shipping out the next day. 


End file.
